Phonny held the trap up and Beechnut peeped through the hole.
“Yes,” said he, “I see the top of his head His name is Frink.”
“Frink?” repeated Phonny, “how do you know?”
“I think that must be his name,” said Beechnut. “If you don’t believe it, try and see if you can make him answer to any other name. If you can I’ll give it up.”
“Nonsense, Beechnut,” said Phonny. “That is only some of your fun. But Frink will be a very good name for him, nevertheless. Only I was going to call him Bunny.”
“I don’t think his name is Bunny,” said Beechnut. “I knew Bunny. He was a squirrel that belonged to Rodolphus. He got away and ran off into the woods, but I don’t think that this is the same one.”
“I’ll call him Frink,” said Phonny. “But what would you do with him if you were in my place?”
“Me?” said Beechnut.
“Yes,” said Phonny.